


My Something Good

by StillNotOverTheSeasonFinale



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 08:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2102853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StillNotOverTheSeasonFinale/pseuds/StillNotOverTheSeasonFinale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak spent most of his life hiding in the shadows. He didn’t need anyone; he could take care of himself. It wasn’t until he met Dean Winchester that he realized he didn’t want to. Dean had lived his whole life on the run from the shadows of his past. He liked always being on the move, not having anything to hold him back. Castiel gave him a reason to stay.</p><p>Yet another High School AU, but with a bamf Cas</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Something Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quillquiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillquiver/gifts).



> So I'm celebrating my first anniversary of the day I started watching Supernatural (August 8, 2013) by posting my very first fanfic! I could not have done this without doctorinthetardis ( casthewise.tumblr.com ), my wonderful beta. It's been a great year, and I'm looking forward to another! Thanks again, Alex, and to all my wonderful family and friends who put up with my fangirling on a daily basis.

Of all the people in his English class, why did Castiel have to be partnered with Dean Winchester? He had spent years flying just below everyone’s radar, just in their peripheral vision, and now the new kid had to come along and screw everything up. Typical.

Dean had only been there a week, and everyone in the school had already heard of him. The first day he walked into Castiel’s English class, he had the audacity to make a pass at the teacher, Ms. Milton. He gave sarcastic comments every time he was called on to answer a question. Not to mention, Dean went through girls like a smoker went through cigarettes.

Naturally, rumors of the “badass new kid” spread like wildfire. Castiel had heard them all. Some said he was a murderer; others said he was in witness-protection. But they all shared one point in common: Dean and his little brother Sam couldn’t seem to stay in one school for more than two months.

Castiel had made up his mind almost immediately to never associate with the new kid. It was just his luck to have him sit in the desk right in front of him.

\---

Dean Winchester wasn’t totally oblivious – he noticed the boy in the corner was watching him as soon as he stepped into the room on his first day. Well, /everyone/ was watching him, but there was an intensity in this kid’s blue-eyed stare that almost made Dean flinch.

\---

There was one time in Castiel’s when he had not flown below the radar. This mistake would follow Castiel for years to come.

In eighth grade, there had been this kid named Raphael. He had quite the superiority complex. He got his kicks by picking on anyone who was smaller than him, and quiet, scrawny Castiel had been his favorite victim. 

Most of the assaults were verbal, and nothing could really be done. Raphael would throw names at Castiel, but the boy would just brush them off his shoulder. Until one day, when Raphael had gotten physical. Years later, no one would be able to recall what instigated the fight, but push came to shove, and shove came to all-out brawl.

Raphael ended up in the hospital, but Castiel only sustained minor injuries. The latter was suspended from school for the rest of the semester. When Castiel came back, he continued to sit, silent and unassuming, in the corner. No one bullied him again after that.

Even in high school, students still gossiped about that incident. It wasn’t long until those whispers reached Dean Winchester’s ears.

\---

Not often, but every now and then, an English teacher will assign a group project. It wouldn’t have been any better if Ms. Milton had let them choose partners. Neither Castiel nor Dean had any friends in that class, but she spared them the embarrassment of being picked last by assigning the partners herself. They were paired by seating arrangement.

“Alright, class. Essay assignment.”

The class collectively groaned. Dean Winchester rolled his eyes and stared out the window.

“Yeah, yeah. My heart breaks for you. You and your partner will work together to write a ten thousand word short story about a character who runs away from home. And don’t save this for the night before. You and your partner need to work /together/ if either of you want a good grade on this assignment. It’s worth twenty five percent of your grade. I’m giving you the rest of the class hour to work on it. The rest must be done outside of class unless I give you time at the end of the day. I suggest you and your partner decide on a plot outline and organize a time to meet outside of class. The project is due when we come back from Thanksgiving break. Get started.” And with that, the class erupted into sound as people turned around in their chairs and struck up conversation with their neighbours, only a certain few of them actually working. Ms. Milton turned around and strolled back to her desk, where she started grading the quizzes that students had handed in earlier that day.

Dean turned around in his seat to face the boy with blue eyes. “Castiel, right?” He didn’t give the boy anytime to reply before holding out his hand. “Dean Winchester.”

There was a brief moment of awkward silence as Castiel didn’t take the hand at first. Dean was about to draw away when Castiel extended his own, rather reluctantly. “Hello, Dean.”

He quickly withdrew his hand from the awkward shake.

“We should organize a time and place to meet. We could - “

“Whoa there, Cas.” Castiel was taken aback at Dean’s seemingly affectionate nickname, even though they had only really met just a minute ago. “I don’t do the whole ‘writing’ thing. That’s more my brother’s style.”

Castiel had heard of this brother. He took a mental note that Dean couldn’t even go five sentences without mentioning him.

“Dean, this assignment is a huge portion of our final grade.”

“You think I care about that? I’m gonna be out of here in a few weeks anyway.”

“I don’t expect you to care, Dean, but you’re not the only one in this partnership. I need this grade.” Castiel took out a sheet of notebook paper and scrawled something on it. Then he folded it in half and handed it to Dean. “I’m available Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from three to five. When are you willing to meet?”

Dean unfolded the paper and looked at the address Castiel had handed him. “Livingston County Library. Are you serious? I can’t be caught in a library. Tell you what, Cas,” He said, folding the paper back up and placing it in the inner pocket of his leather jacket. “I got a nice set-up over at the Palamar. Room 11. How ‘bout you swing by after school if you’re so serious about this grade thing.”

A pause.

“The motel?” Dean noticed that Castiel did this funny thing with his face when asking a question. He would squint his eyes and turn his head over so slightly.

“Yeah. You got a problem with that?” Castiel noticed that Dean was the type to get defensive over the smallest things.

“I guess not.”

“Good. Then I’ll see you Mondays and Wednesdays, ‘cause I don’t spend Fridays doing schoolwork.”

___

School got out at 2:45 the next day, a Wednesday, giving Castiel time to head back to his house before meeting Dean at the Palamar. His older brother Gabriel watched as Castiel packed a messenger bag with supplies.

“Where’re you going, Cassie? Got a study date?” Gabriel smirked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Something like that,” Castiel replied, purposely not looking at his brother so as not to give Gabriel any satisfaction over his little joke.

Castiel arrived at the rundown motel at 3:04. The door to Room 11 opened after five knocks.

“Cas,” Dean greeted him with a sort of half-smile. He turned halfway to look behind him, revealing a young boy with soft brown hair - Castiel guessed this must be Sam - working at the table, books and papers spilled out in front of him. Dean turned back to the blue-eyed boy in the doorway. “I think we should actually go somewhere else. My brother likes his quiet when he’s working.”

Dean abandoned the doorway for a second to grab a leather jacket that was hanging on a hook across the room. “I’m goin’ out, Sammy. You’ll be fine by yourself?” he called to his younger brother. Sam gave a small nod in response, not taking his eyes of whatever homework was in front of him.

“Sam,” Dean continued, more serious now. “I need you to watch out for yourself for a few hours. Can you do that?”

This time Sam did look up, meeting his older brother’s gaze with a face just as serious as Dean’s. “Yeah, Dean. I’ll be fine.”

Dean swaggered over to the table where Sam was sitting to ruffle his brother’s hair. “I’ll be back by 5:30, okay? If I’m not…” He let the sentence hang.

“I know Dean; I’ll be fine,” Sam reassured.

Dean nodded. “Alright. See ya,” he said, making his way back to the door where Castiel was still standing with his bookbag.

“Where are we going, then?” Castiel asked as Dean closed and locked the motel room door behind him, the first thing he’s said since arriving at the Palamar. 

“The arcade.”

Castiel didn’t know that people in High School still went to the arcade; he himself hadn’t been since his ninth birthday. In fact, the whole situation seemed a bit juvenile. Dean turned away from the motel room door and started the walk down the sidewalk. Castiel followed, having nowhere else to go.

“Don’t you think it will be a little loud in the arcade? Work is difficult in a noisy environment, as I’m sure your brother has told you,” Castiel rebuffed.

Dean seemed taken aback at Castiel’s casual mention of Sam. 

“I don’t think you understood. We’re not going to the arcade to do schoolwork. We’re going to the arcade to play games and pick up chicks”

Suddenly, Castiel stepped in front of Dean, blocking his path.

“What’re you-” Dean started.

“We have less than a month to do this project. I’m not wasting my time playing games. We’re supposed to be working _together_ , so if you don’t want to do this project, keep in mind that that’s both our grades in jeopardy. If I need to make you work, I will,” Castiel said defiantly.

Dean’s own shock showed on his face. He weighed his options. Even though Cas was much shorter and scrawnier than he was, he had no doubt the kid could put up a fight, especially considering what had happened to that Raphael kid. If he and Cas were to fight, they would probably be evenly matched. No need to get in a fight for no reason. Besides, this kid was only defending his grade. Dean didn’t care what he got on the stupid project, but Castiel clearly did, and it was probably best not to make any unnecessary enemies.. Dean didn’t have any money for the arcade anyway. He sighed.

“Fine. You tell us where to go, but I am not stepping one foot in a library.”

___

Fifteen minutes later, Dean found himself inside Castiel’s house - no, scratch that - mansion. Evidently, the kid was super-rich. Like, 5th-avenue-New-York rich. Unfortunately, Cas noticed Dean eyeing the ashtrays and gave him a try-anything-and-I’ll-kill-you glare. The place was just big enough to hold everyone: Castiel, his uncle, and his seemingly endless number of siblings. one of them approached them in the foyer, a lollipop in his mouth, even though he was obviously older than either of them. 

“Cassie! Back so soon?” he greeted his younger brother enthusiastically. Then, noticing Dean, he added, “You bring home a little pet?”

“Gabriel, this is Dean,” Cas introduced. “He’s my English partner; we’re working on a project together.”

“Good luck with that!” Gabriel snorted. “Hester’s got a bunch of friends over. They’re all in the kitchen right now, so you got some time to escape. Uncle Michael’s covering detention today.”

Dean looked at Castiel. “Uncle Michael?”

“My uncle is the principal. We live with him.” He turned to his brother, Gabe. “We’ll be downstairs working, if you need me.” 

Dean followed Cas down a narrow hallway.

“So, your sister’s got friends over, huh?”

“Yes, and Hester’s thirteen, so don’t even try.”

Cas turned down a set of stairs into a room with green carpet - yes, green carpet - pool tables, a flat-screen television with several game consoles hooked up, a leather couch off to the side, and a table with chairs in the corner. Next to the table was a cabinet filled with board games: Battleship,Monopoly, Checkers, Candyland, and more. The entertainment center, which held the TV, had several cubbies of video games and DVDs. Leaning against the outside of the entertainment center were several plastic guitars and a rubber drum set. Dean couldn’t believe it.

“So, this is the game room,” Castiel explained, even though he didn’t really need to. “It’s probably the quietest room in the house right now, so...” he plopped his messenger bag on the table in the corner. “Where should we start?”

Dean was so distracted by the fake instruments in the corner that he had forgotten why Cas had brought him here.

“Dude, you have Guitar Hero? That’s better than the arcade!”

“Dean, I didn’t mean with the games. I meant, where should we start with the assignment?”

“C’mon Cas, just a few songs,” Dean pleaded.

Cas huffed. “Do I need to repeat what I said earlier?”

Dean gave no response; the message was clear.

“Let’s just get working, okay?”

“Whatever.”

They spent the next hour laying out the basic plot of their story. Cas brainstormed on a piece of paper, while Dean only participated when asked a direct question. Most of the time, Cas noticed, he was staring almost wistfully at the video games, especially the Guitar Hero set.

“How do you want to divide this up?” Cas asked after having drawn a sort of plot timeline on the back of the brainstorming paper. “There’s ten thousand words, so we could do five thousand each...” Dean looked up. “...We could switch off every thousand, but that would probably get confusing. One of us could write the first half and the other write the second. What do you think?” Castiel finished.

“Dude, you are taking this way too literally.”

Cas’ face looked blank. He didn’t know how to respond.

Dean took a breath. “Look, I don’t know about you, but I don’t write five thousand words unless someone want a pretty shitty five thousand words. When Milton said we would writing this paper together, did you really think she meant that the work would be divided evenly? Obviously one person is gonna be a better writer than the other, and in our case, that’s you.”

“So, what do you propose we do?”

“How about you write the gist of it, write down all your little plot details or whatever, and then I’ll be like the editor. I’ll tweak some stuff and add some stuff to make it sound better, and I’ll make sure we end up with at least ten thousand. Think you can handle that?”

“Of course I can handle it. It’s just…” Cas trailed off.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I’ll have a rough draft for you within two weeks.”

“Great. Now, I got about half an hour before I really gotta bail. Can I please play your Guitar Hero?”

“Aw, let the squirrel play,” said a voice from the doorway. Both Dean and Castiel turned their heads to see Gabriel standing at the foot of the stairs, another lollipop in his mouth. “Sorry, I couldn’t stand being around those little girls anymore. It’s like I was drowning in estrogen. I had to get out of there before I started my period.” 

Only Dean chuckled.

“So you wanna turn your study date into a play date, that’s fine with me,” Gabriel continued. “Just promise me you won’t send me back upstairs.”

Dean turned to look at Cas, seeing how he would react. His face was brooding and radiating annoyance, but he sighed and said “Fine,” and that was that.

Castiel didn’t actually join in the game, but rather sat at the table typing on his laptop, only asking twice for them to turn the volume down. Gabe and Dean played through a setlist of Dean’s favorite classic rock songs: “Back in the Saddle,” “Cherry Pie,” “Round and Round,” and “Carry On Wayward Son.” Dean had never played Guitar Hero before, and he admitted this to Gabe.

“What, never?”

“Never. I heard they quit making the games a few years ago.”

“Yeah, what a shame. They had a good run, though. You ever play a real guitar?”

“Once. A girl named Robin tried to teach me a few years ago. I used to want to be a rock star.”

“And now?”

“Now what?”

“Now what do you wanna be?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. I’ll probably end up doing something boring, though; I need to take care of my little brother.” 

“Hm. That’s a bummer. What song do you wanna play now?”

Dean glanced at his watch. 4:56. “Actually, I should probably get going. I said I’d be back between five and five thirty.”

Castiel finally looked up from his laptop. “Do I need to walk you home? There’ll be lots of traffic.”

“Well, Cas, that’s a nice offer, but I can take care of myself,” Dean replied, grabbing his jacket off the couch.

“Let the boy walk you home,” Gabriel said, turning off the game console. “It’ll give him a chance to get some fresh air, and it’s not very often he willingly tears himself away from his schoolwork.”

“Gabriel…” Castiel started as a warning, but Dean was laughing.

“Alright, why not?” Dean complied. “I could use the company.”

Castiel was planning on showing Dean the way back to the motel in silence, but Dean had other plans.

“So what’s your deal?” he asked. Castiel must have looked confused because he added, “I mean your whole family. You live with your uncle, but what happened to your parents? And if he’s just a principal, how do you guys afford where you live?”

Dean clearly had no boundaries. These were all reasonable questions, but Castiel didn’t exactly feel like spilling his entire family history to someone he barely knew and didn’t even like. But Cas did know enough about Dean to know that he wasn’t going to stop asking questions until he got the answer. So Castiel spent a few seconds to pick and choose the right amount of information to keep Dean’s inner bloodhound at bay without getting too personal.

“My parents were into politics, and they gained a lot of money that way. Now that they’re not in the picture, most of that money went to my uncle, Michael, who preferred the glamorous life of teaching over rigorous political debates.”

“What happened to your parents? If you don’t mind me asking.” Dean’s voice was prodding, but soft. Castiel stared at his feet as he walked.

“No Dean; I do mind you asking.”

They walked a few more minutes in silence before Castiel decided that it was his turn.

“So what about you?” He looked up at Dean.

“What about me?”

“You roll into town in the middle of a semester, claiming to be ‘out of here in a few weeks.’ You act all weird about your little brother, and you seem extremely averse to any kind of work that requires mental activity. You can’t even stay in the same town for more than two months. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about you.”

“You know what, Cas? I don’t really feel like talking about it.” They were almost back at the motel, and Dean wouldn’t look Castiel in the eyes.

“If it’s a family thing, I get it. My family’s pretty screwed up, too. But at the end of the day, my siblings and I, we look out for each other. I can tell you do the same for Sam.”

Dean nodded, looking at his feet. “Sammy’s a good kid. He doesn’t deserve... He shouldn’t have to move around as much. That’s not his fault.”

“Dean, I want you to be honest with me for a minute.” They stopped in the parking lot of the Palamar, and Castiel caught and held Dean’s gaze. “Why do you keep moving around?”

“That’s really none of your business,” Dean said, without looking away.

“If we’re writing a story together, we need to know each other. We can’t be strangers forever,” Castiel replied, without missing a beat.

Dean stared at his hands. “Cas, I really can’t talk about this.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Alright, you know what?” Dean glared at Castiel, finally snapping. “I don’t owe you anything. We’re English partners and that’s it. I don’t need you snooping around my life or my family. I’ll see you in school.” And with that, Dean Winchester turned on his heels and walked across the parking lot to Room 11. His grand exit, however, was ruined when the key didn’t work and Sam had to let him inside.

\---

The next few days were awkward to say the least. Dean still sat in front of Castiel in English class, though he refused to talk to him. This wouldn’t have been a problem if Ms. Milton hadn’t given extra time to work on the project during class. Everyone else in the room was talking with their respective partners, working out the details of their story, while Dean refused to even turn around and look at Castiel. Finally, Ms. Milton had had enough and called them both up to her desk in the middle of class.

“Is there a reason you two aren’t working on your project?” she asked them.

Dean was about to say something, but Castiel spoke up first. “We already have most of it typed on my laptop, which I left at home. We have all the details figured out and the dialogue written, and all that’s left to do is the typing.”

“Are you two working together? I’d hate for you to end up doing all the work again, Castiel.”

“Yes, Dean and I have been meeting after school to work on it.”

Ms. Milton sighed. “Well, if you two are already finished with your project, you may as well return to your desks.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Castiel turned away from the desk and walked back to his own, his coat swishing along behind him and Dean following close behind.

“Dude, do you really have it finished? It’s only been like a week,” Dean asked Castiel, sitting backwards in his chair.

“Of course I don’t have it finished. Not even I can write ten thousand words over a weekend, especially without the help of my assigned partner.”

“Oh.” Dean couldn’t seem to look Castiel in the face, his eyes wandering downward instead. “So why did you lie?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure.”

Dean ran his hand over his face, somewhat flustered. “Look, Cas, I’m sorry about the other day. Are you still free on Mondays? I’m willing to work on this project with you after school, if you’ll let me.”

“Of course. You’re my partner, remember?”

\---

Castiel picked Dean up from the Palamar at three, and they walked back to his house together. It seemed this was going to become the routine. They worked in the game room because, once again, it was the quietest room in the house. Dean helped a little more with the assignment, watching Castiel as he typed and pointing out ways to make the story flow better. (“Dude, you can’t write the characters like they all have sticks up their asses.” “Change the frickin’ dialogue, this isn’t the Renaissance.”) After an hour and a half, they had written one thousand words together, and Dean decided it was time for a well-deserved break.

“Dude, you’ve got to play Guitar Hero with me.”

Castiel wondered just how many of Dean’s sentences started with the word ‘dude,’ but after much badgering from Dean, he obliged to a few songs.

They lost track of time.

After an hour of the best hits of classic rock, both boys hands were numb from button-pressing and plastic guitar-strumming. Dean had taken off his watch after fifteen minutes, when his wrist had started to swell slightly. Now, he picked it up off the couch and stared at the tiny little screen that read 5:32.

“Shit, I’m late!”

“Dean, it’s okay. I can walk you home and have Gabriel put the game up.”

“No, Cas, you don’t understand. Sammy’s probably worried sick!”

“I’m sure your brother can handle himself for another fifteen minutes.”

But Dean had already donned his leather jacket and was running up the stairs.

“Dean, wait!” Castiel shouted after him. A few seconds later, he heard the front door slam.

\---

Dean ran all the way back to the motel. What would take fifteen minutes to walk only took a quarter of the time to sprint. He stopped at the door to Room 11 and rested his hand against the door jam for a second to catch his breath. Then he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“Sammy, sorry I’m late,” he gasped. Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, but there was someone else there too. Dean could see a familiar silhouette relaxing in the armchair.

“Hey, Dean,” a gruff voice said.

\---

Dean showed up to school the next day with a bruise under his left eye. Castiel didn’t say anything, and Dean didn’t talk at all.

\---

On Wednesday, Castiel wasn’t sure if he and Dean were still working together. He walked over to the Palamar anyway, but couldn’t bring himself to knock on the door and intrude on the shouting coming from inside. Castiel had just made his decision to leave when Dean threw open the door, angry tears running down his face.

“Cas,” he whispered in surprise and quickly wiped the tears away. “It’s Wednesday, isn’t it?”

“I can leave if you…” Castiel trailed off, not sure where he was going with that sentence in the first place.

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s perfect, actually.” Dean closed the door behind him. “Let’s go, shall we?”

Castiel found it hard to keep their silent promise never to talk about each other’s history as they walked to his house together, both of them staring at the ground. It was only after they had written another thousand words that he finally asked the question that had been nagging at him since he picked Dean up. Dean didn’t have much to say, just two words.

“Family problems.”

\---

They picked up a pattern after that. Castiel would end up outside Room 11 of the Palamar every Monday and Wednesday around three. He would wait outside the door until Dean came outside, and they would walk together to Cas’ house. Sometimes they would walk in silence, other times they would talk. They didn’t talk about anything in particular. Dean would start mostly one-sided conversations about pop culture, and Cas would try to understand, but Dean was teaching him, really. Castiel began to open up a little more about his annoying siblings, and Dean seemed genuinely interested in a family that wasn’t his own. Mostly, though, they talked about Kevin.

Kevin was the main character in the story they were writing. They had created a whole universe centered around him. Kevin was sucked into responsibilities that he didn’t want, and the more he tried to run away from them, the more he was sucked back in. Dean was the one who really built the character; Castiel had had the framework, sure, but before Dean had started helping, Kevin was two-dimensional and unrelatable. Dean had brought him to life. 

Twice a week they worked in Cas’ game room. At first, they typed about a thousand words a day, but then it was clear that they couldn’t get the whole story out in ten thousand words. If they weren’t careful, this would end up being a novel. So the pair would spend most days editing what they already had, deleting some unimportant scenes and useless dialogue just to get the plot moving. After it was deemed “enough work for one day,” Dean and Castiel would play Guitar Hero for the remainder of the time they had together. Dean would always leave abruptly at five, however. He walked back to the motel by himself.

This was the pattern both of them had gotten used to, and it worked fine. 

For about two weeks.

One day, Dean showed up at Castiel’s house uninvited. That day was a Friday. At eight in the evening. Castiel wasn’t sure what he expected when he opened the door, but it wasn’t his English partner standing on his porch at night, bleeding profusely from a gash on his left calf. 

When Castiel’s eyes finally took in what he was seeing, he yelled for Gabriel to get the first aid kit. Castiel helped Dean inside and set him on the leather couch in the living room, where he lay back and propped his injured leg up on the armrest. Gabriel came rushing in a minute later, arms full of gauze as well as various antibiotics and painkillers. Castiel gave Dean the painkillers while Gabriel started to treat the leg.

“We should call somebody,” Gabriel stated. It was quite obvious, really. Although him and some of the older Novak kids were able to play nurse when the younger ones got hurt, nobody had dealt with anything this big. Some of their other siblings were gathering on the edge of the room, curious to see what all the fuss was about.

“No!” Dean ground out, which surprised everyone but Castiel. It was a bad wound, anyone could see that, and everyone knew that it needed serious medical attention. But Castiel had grown to know Dean, even if he didn’t know his family, and Castiel knew that Dean was stubborn, that he would never ask for help if it weren’t serious. It was for this reason that Castiel was surprised when Dean had knocked on his door to begin with.

“Dean, tell us how this happened.”

“Cas, I-”

“We can’t help you if we don’t know the nature of the wound.”

For a moment, everyone was silent.

“I fell.”

“Dean, don’t lie to me.”

“It’s true, Cas. I tripped, I fell, and I split my leg open. Do you have any whiskey? Any booze’ll work.”

“Dean, you’re seventeen. I’m not giving you alcohol, even if you are in pain. The painkillers will kick in in a minute. What did you fall on?”

“Cas.”

“Dean, what did you fall on? Was it glass?”

Another silent moment.

“A knife.”

The answer took a second to register in Castiel’s brain. Dean had fallen on a knife and split open his leg. What was a knife doing on the ground?

“Zachariah, take the younger ones and get them out of here. I don’t want them to hear this.”

After Castiel’s brother had cleared the room except for Cas and Gabe, Dean found it much easier to breath.

“Thanks, Cas.”

“I’m not going to ask about the knife yet, but I am going to call the hospital.”

“I already have,” said Hester, who no one noticed was still in the doorway. “An ambulance will be here soon.”

“Good. Thank you, Hester,” Castiel nodded to his little sister. She nodded back and excused herself.

“That’s some sister you got,” Dean breathed.

“She can be a handful at times, but she’s got a good heart. By the way, how did you make it all the way to my house?”

Dean’s vision was growing blurry. “I flew.”

“Dean, be serious.”

As promised, the painkillers were kicking in, and Dean began to feel numb.

“Cas, I…” Dean stopped. What was he saying again? Something about flying? Dean hated flying. 

He heard voices. Voices saying his name. Voices talking to him. Voices not talking to him. Then another noise. Sirens.

\---

“No, I don’t know how he got to my house. He just showed up. We tried to help him, but I knew I had to call someone.

“He said he fell onto a knife.

“He was staying at the Palamar. Room 11. He’s got a kid brother there too.

“Yes, sir.

“No, ma’am.

“How is he?”

\---

Dean didn’t know how long he’d been out; he didn’t feel like he slept at all. In fact, he felt like ass. But he was awake. He thought.

It took him a moment to realize he was in a hospital, and before he could remember why, someone else entered the room. The someone was wearing scrubs, so Dean assumed it was a doctor, or at least a nurse. “Nice of you to join the land of the conscious.” The someone was female. “I'm nurse Masters; I'll be taking care of you. How are you feeling?” 

It took Dean a few seconds to respond because he was trying to get his eyes to focus. The nurse who had asked him the question was short with dark hair. She wasn’t thin, but she wasn’t necessarily fat either. She was carrying a clipboard. 

Once Dean decided that he could trust his eyes again, he had to get his mouth and tongue to cooperate. His tongue felt large and wet in his mouth and _damn_ was he thirsty. But once he figured out how to work his lips and tongue again, he gave the nurse - nurse Masters - a straight answer.

“Like ass.”

\---

Castiel was in the waiting room of a hospital. He hated hospitals. Everyone is sad all the time. You could walk into a hospital and /smell/ the depression, mixed in with the scent of death and chemicals.

Castiel hated hospitals, yet he had spent the entire night in the waiting room of one. Gabriel had gotten him coffee from the cafeteria a few hours before, but now the cup sat empty on the side table beside him. There was a couch in the waiting room - several, actually - and a television, but he had no interest in watching anything. Right now, he sat with his head in his hands, the weariness of the past eighteen hours finally catching up to him. In fact he was just dozing off when -

“Novak.”

He nearly jumped out of his chair.

“Is he okay? Is he awake? Did they find Sam?”

“He’s stable, and conscious, for the moment. I haven’t gotten any word from the search team,” said Dr. Turner.

“Can I see him?”

“I’m afraid only his immediate family is allowed at this point.”

Castiel would have called someone, if he knew who to call. Dean never talked about his family outside of Sam. The only other family member Castiel knows for sure that he had was his father, but that didn’t seem like a good idea. Neither Dean’s father nor his brother were found at the Palamar the night before. Castiel had never heard Dean mention a mother, any uncles, aunts, cousins, or even grandparents.

“I don’t think he has any family right now. Just please, let me see him.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Novak.”

Why were doctors always apologizing?

\---

“You’ve lost a lot of blood Mr. Winchester. Do you remember what happened?”

“Did someone do this to you?”

“Do you have any family other than your father and your brother?”

“Rate the pain on a scale of one to ten.”

“How are you feeling, Mr. Winchester?”

\---

It was Sunday now, and Castiel should not have still been here, but he didn’t want to leave. He hated hospitals and he didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to leave Dean.

So when the nurses and doctors weren’t paying attention, he snuck into Dean’s room. Dean was asleep. Castiel took his hand. He felt like he should say something, but he didn’t know what.

So he sat there by Dean’s bed, grasping his hand, hoping, praying, _praying_.

“Cas?”

He looked up into Dean’s green eyes, his open eyes.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Sir?” a voice filtered from the corridor. “Sir, you can’t be in here.”

Castiel turned to look at the nurse rushing into the room. Dean tried to turn, but it hurt too much and he winced instead. Castiel turned back to Dean. The nurse stood beside Castiel. 

“Sir, you need to leave.”

“It’s fine,” Dean said.

“But-”

“Let him stay.”

And she did.

\---

Dean was far from better. He was still drifting in and out of consciousness, and when he was lucid, he could barely answer the questions he was asked. For the most part, he didn’t want to answer. He wanted to sleep. Sleep was supposed to make you feel better, but it wasn’t helping at all. Neither were the drugs.

Dean was foggy and confused and he _hated_ it. He would rather feel the pain. But when he told the doctors this, they upped his drug dosage, and he was asleep minutes later. The only thing that tied him to consciousness was Cas. Cas’ hand in his hand. Cas’ warmth, even though Dean had had enough of warmth, his entire body was warm for Christ’s sake. Cas’ warmth was different, it was a nice warmth, not a drug-induced I-can’t-sleep warmth. Cas’ warmth was floating on a lake, while the warmth he was experiencing the rest of the time was drowning in the ocean, getting salt water up in your nose and ears and mouth until you can’t _breathe._

Cas was always there when Dean woke up, and he was always there when Dean fell asleep, and he was still there, sweaty-palmed and tired-eyed, whenever Dean woke up for real, whenever Dean started asking for food and water, whenever Dean realized what had happened to his leg.

“You won’t be able to walk on it for a few months,” Dr. Turner explained. “Though you’re lucky we didn’t have to amputate it.”

\---

Dean didn’t consider himself lucky. He remembered everything about what happened. He remembered everything, except for the journey to Cas’ house.

It would be a while before Dean was released from the hospital. Until then, he had to put up with questions, lots of questions. Questions from the police, questions from the doctors, hell, even questions from CPS.

They didn’t know where his brother was. They didn’t know where his father was. All that Dean had left in this world was sitting beside him, holding his hand.

He knew what had happened - he really had tripped and fallen on a knife, although it wasn’t exactly the way that everyone perceived it to be.

In the breaks between questions, he would talk to Cas. It was nice talking to Cas. Cas told him stories. Sometimes Cas would read to him: books, the newspaper, whatever he could get his hands on. Other times Cas would talk about other things. What was happening outside the four white walls of Dean’s hospital room. Cas said that he had had a friend turn in their paper for Ms. Miltons class. Dean had forgotten that that was due this week. Cas said that they earned an A. That was something new for Dean.

Sometimes, when talking with Cas, Dean would say something that he forgot he wasn’t supposed to say. Like that time he told Cas he wanted to run away.

“We could do it, you know.”

“Do what?” Castiel was reading the newspaper to Dean when Dean had interrupted.

“Run away together. You and me against the rest of the world. We’d make a good team.”

Cas stayed silent.

“Being with you is different than being with anyone else. I don’t want to leave this town. I don’t want to leave _you._ But all my life I’ve been running, and all my life I’ve been alone. And then I met you, and you’re this - you and Sam are the only good things in my life, and God knows where Sam is. I need to find him, but I don’t want to lose you. So come with me. Run away with me, and we’ll find Sam, and life can be good for once.”

Dean was rambling now, but Castiel still remained silent.

“And I’m not an idiot. I know that life isn’t supposed to be all lollipops and candy-canes. But after all the shit I’ve put up with, I think I deserve something good in my life. And Cas,” he turned to look at the blue-eyed boy in the hospital chair. “You’re my something good. And I want this. But only if you do.”

Castiel waited a while to make sure that Dean was finished. And then, because he didn’t know what to say, he continued to read the newspaper.

\---

“Dean? Dean, I don’t know if you can hear me. I’ve been thinking about what you said, and you’re right. You don’t deserve this hell, but you can’t run from it. You’ve been running all your life. It’s time to stop. Stay with me, Dean. This is what I want. Stay with me.”

\---

Sam Winchester was found squatting in an empty house ten miles away from the motel. He had set up a temporary home there. When CPS had tried to take him, he fought back. But days of hiding with not much to eat had made him weak. He was taken to a protective home where he was given food, water, and a real place to sleep. He didn’t talk much.

After about a week, the doctors managed to piece together most of Dean’s drugged answers to form a conclusion of what had happened. Dean and Sam Winchester had been living in the motel for just under month. In that time, their father, John, only visited twice. The first time, he had found Sam alone in the room. When Dean came home half an hour later, a fight broke out. It ended when John left again, only to get drunk that night. The second time was the night Dean wound up in the hospital for a knife wound. Dean swore up and down that he had fallen, and Sam defended that his father did not take arms against either of them. CPS and the police investigated the motel room but found it empty, as if no one had even been there. No one knew how Dean had ended up on the Novak’s doorstep. John Winchester was nowhere to be found.

Dean didn’t have anywhere to go when he was eventually released from the hospital - he had no other family - so it was decided that he would join his brother in the protective home until foster care could work something out. But that didn’t make much of a difference since he would be turning eighteen in a few months anyway. He was put back in school, and Castiel visited the home often. The two boys became close friends while Dean’s leg healed. At school, Castiel would help Dean walk to his classes, often carrying his books for him as Dean struggled with crutches. They had gotten permission from teachers to leave each class a few minutes before the bell rang in order to beat the crowd of students in the hallways.

Now, they were walking between English and History classes, Castiel doing Dean’s heavy lifting, when Dean stopped in the hallway.

“Dean? Is something wrong?” Cas asked, stopping too.

A smile played on the corner of Dean’s lips. “No, Cas. I’m perfect, actually..” 

That’s when Dean let go of his crutches, letting them fall to the ground as he kept his weight on his good leg.

“Dean, what are you-” Castiel couldn’t finish his question because suddenly Dean was holding his face between his hands and Dean’s mouth was pressing against his and the world was calm. No one had ever kissed Castiel the way Dean was kissing him now. No one had ever kissed Castiel at all. In fact, the shock of it made him pull back a little, and Dean stopped. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, looking at his feet. “If this isn’t - if you don’t - I just thought.” Castiel had never seen Dean stumble over his words the way he was now.

“You stopped.” Dean looked up at Castiel’s voice. “I didn’t want you to stop.”

One moment, they were standing apart from each other; the next, they were together again, Castiel’s lips pressing against Dean’s. Dean’s lips were soft, and his eyes were closed. Castiel closed his own eyes too, focusing instead on his other senses in order to capture this moment as much as possible. There was no sound in the deserted hallway other than the beating of their own hearts. Up this close, Castiel realized that Dean smelled faintly of pine needles, hamburgers, and, of course, leather. It was an odd combination of scents but so purely _Dean_ that Castiel found himself breathing deeply through his nose just to get a better whiff of it. He found himself standing on his toes just to run his fingers through Dean’s hair. It was messy, but not nearly messy enough; Cas decided he should mess it up more. He was pretty sure he was supposed to be tilting his head one way, but it was so much nicer to feel Dean’s forehead squish against his own. He could feel Dean’s nose-breathing against his cheek, reminding him that he is alive and he is safe and everything was alright because they were together.

Castiel wanted that moment to last forever, but he knew that nothing really lasts. Still, neither of them pulled back until the bell rang, forcing them to hurry Dean to his History class, the last class of the day. They said goodbye at the door, Cas giving an awkward little wave and Dean unable to stop grinning.

\---

Years later, Castiel thought on all this fondly. It really was amazing how far they’d both come.

He thought about Christmas that first year, the first of many Winchester-Novak Christmases to come. Gabriel had gotten Cas another Guitar Hero game. With New Year’s came the Midnight Kiss, and the announcement to the Novaks and Sam that he and Dean were together. The family took it well.

Castiel was now in college, majoring in English with a part-time job on the side. Dean worked as a mechanic to pay off the rent for the apartment they shared with each other and Sam.

Those days, they were both more open with each other, especially about family issues. Castiel had told Dean the full story of his mother’s car accident and his father’s suicide soon after. In turn, Dean had told Castiel of his mother’s death in a house fire and of his father’s downward spiral into alcoholism and abuse. That had been a tough day for both of them, but it was necessary for their relationship.

Speaking of their relationship…

Dean fidgeted in the sheets next to him, rolling over to look him in the eyes, and smiled ever so slightly. “Mornin’ Cas.”

Castiel stared into Dean’s stunning green eyes. The same green eyes he had fallen asleep thinking about in High School. “Good morning, Dean. I have something to ask you.”

Dean sat up a little, leaning on his elbow. “Yeah, Cas. Anything.”

Castiel reached under his pillow and felt his fingers clutch at the box. In that moment, it was all too real. For a split second, he wasn’t sure if he can do it. Then, smiling to himself, he gathered his courage and pulled the box from it’s hiding place.

Dean eyed the box, and comprehension brightened his sleep-heavy eyes. “Cas, is that…?”

“Shh,” Castiel silenced him. “Let me get through this.”

Dean nodded, allowing Cas to continue.

“Dean, back when we first met, you told me you wanted to run away with me. You said that I was one of the only good things in your life. Now, we have plenty of good things, but none of it would be possible if we didn’t have each other. I asked you to stay with me because I wanted something good, too. Now, I’m asking you again. Will you stay with me, for the rest of our time together?” 

Castiel opened the box to reveal the silver ring inside. Dean only glanced at it for a second before moving his eyes back to Castiel’s. He smirked.

“Of course. You’re my partner, remember?”

\---

_"I can't believe you actually got me a ring."_

_"It's symbolic. Just put it on."_


End file.
